“Yes?” said Miss Silver.
“The cheque was made out to my brother-in-law Ernest Wadlow, and was endorsed by him in favor of his son Maurice. It was not crossed.”
“Did you write this cheque, Miss Treherne?”
Rachel’s head lifted. She said in a perfectly level voice,
“I gave my brother-in-law a cheque for a hundred pounds three days ago. He asked me not to cross it.”
“Did he say why?”
“I understood that he wanted the money for Maurice, and that he thought the uncrossed cheque would be more convenient.”
“And it is this cheque which is in question?”
Anger made a very handsome woman of Rachel Treherne.
“I don’t recognize the amount. I gave Ernest a cheque for a hundred. The cheque presented was for ten thousand.”
Miss Silver looked very grave.
“I do not understand,” she said. “The figure would be altered easily enough, but the words-Miss Treherne, it would be impossible to change one hundred into ten thousand, unless the forger took the risk of simply making the alterations and initialling them-and with so large a sum there would be no chance of that succeeding. The drawer would inevitably be referred to.”
Rachel shook her head.
“The words were not altered-they were forged. The number of the cheque is not the same as the one I drew-it is the next one. And that cheque is missing from my book. Either Ernest or Maurice must have torn it out and copied the cheque I drew-with a difference. I felt bound to tell you about it.”
Miss Silver said, “Yes-” in rather an abstracted tone.
Rachel’s foot tapped the floor.
“Either my brother-in-law or his son had planned to rob me of this money-they may both have been concerned. Ernest and Mabel are quite besotted about Maurice. They had been pestering me to give them just this sum, and I had refused. So somebody forged that cheque. Now I want you to think what bearing this may have on what happened yesterday.”
Miss Silver gazed at her mildly.
“A person who had just forged your signature to a cheque for ten thousand pounds would be the last person on earth to push you over a cliff before that cheque had been cleared. Your death would have rendered it quite valueless.”
“I know that. But think of it this way. You forge a cheque, you let it go out of your hands, and then you begin to think what a frightful risk you have run. Even if it goes through, even if you get the money, there’s bound to be a day of reckoning. You may not be prosecuted, but you are bound to be exposed and ostracized. You won’t be a part of the family any more. Don’t you think you might cast about you for some way out?” Her voice hardened. “Maurice would have come in for just that ten thousand pounds if I had been killed last night.”
“And your brother-in-law?”
“Five thousand. But Mabel would have thirty thousand.”
“Under your present will?”
“Yes-that was my father’s wish.”
“Destroy that will, Miss Treherne, and inform your family that you have destroyed it.”
“I have told you that I won’t do that. I would rather die than not get to the bottom of all this.”
Miss Silver nodded.
“And you could bear to find Mr. Ernest or Mr. Maurice there. It would lift a load off your heart, would it not?”
“Miss Silver!”
Miss Silver looked at her steadily.
“Now you are vexed. But it is true. If I could prove to your satisfaction that the attempt on your life had been made by your brother-in-law or his son, you would be very grateful to me.”
Rachel lifted her eyes. Anger flamed and went out. A look of direct simplicity took its place.
“Yes, that is true. You see I don’t love them-really. So it wouldn’t hurt that way-I could bear it. It’s not like thinking that someone you love-has been hating you-all the time.” She made an abrupt movement. “I must see Ernest at once. I should like you to be here. I don’t think we can go on pretending that you are a governess.”
Miss Silver said, “No.”
Rachel rang the bell, and Ivy was despatched to ask Mr. Wadlow if he would come upstairs to Miss Treherne’s sitting-room. They waited for him in silence. Rachel at her writing-table, Miss Silver seated unobtrusively in a low chair at the fire. She had, for once, no knitting to occupy her hands. They rested idly in her lap. The expression of her face was stern and thoughtful.
Ernest Wadlow came in after his usual hurried manner- always a little short of time, always a little inclined to consider himself aggrieved. Neusel, stretched out at full length upon the hearth-rug, twitched an ear, opened an eye, and growled softly in his throat. Mr. Wadlow looked at him with distaste.
“Did you want me, Rachel? Of course if you did-if there is anything I can do. I was looking up my Pyrenean notes. I am thinking of Pyrenean Pilgrimage as a title. I must say alliteration appeals to me. Or, alternatively, Pyrenean Pilgrims, or Pyrenean Peregrination. Which do you prefer?”
“I’m afraid I can’t give my mind to it just now. I want to speak to you about a very serious matter.”
Ernest’s eyebrows went up fantastically high. They indicated that his sister-in-law had obviously forgotten the presence of a stranger. One does not discuss a serious matter with a stranger sitting by the fire obviously prepared to listen.
Rachel had no difficulty in interpreting the eyebrows. She said,
“Please sit down, Ernest. Miss Silver is acting as my adviser in this matter.”
It took so little to make Ernest Wadlow look worried that the immediate puckering of the lines about his eyes and mouth could not be considered as indicative of an uneasy conscience. The frown which drew his brows together gave him a puzzled look. He said,
“My dear Rachel-” And then, “I really cannot see-”
“Please do sit down,” said Rachel. “Now Ernest-you remember my giving you a cheque for a hundred pounds three days ago?”
Mr. Wadlow appeared pained.
“I had thought it a private matter. But it does not signify-you are naturally quite at liberty. The circumstance is, of course, within my recollection.”
“Ernest-what did you do with that cheque?”
“My dear Rachel, surely that is my affair.”
Rachel said, “No.” And then, “I’m afraid I must press the question. Did you send it to your bank?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you endorse it in someone else’s favor?”
“Really, Rachel!”
“Did you?
“Er-no.”
“Did you cash it yourself?”
“You know perfectly well that I have had no opportunity of doing so.”
“Then have you still got it?”
“No, I have not.”
“Then, Ernest, will you tell me what you did do with it?”
Mr. Wadlow straightened his pince-nez.
“I find all these questions very hard to understand. They appear to me to have a-a tendency which I would rather not particularize, but if I were forced to do so-”
Rachel leaned forward with her elbow on the table.
“What’s the good of talking like that, Ernest? Something has gone wrong about that cheque, and I naturally want to know what you did with it. The bank has just rung me up.”
Ernest Wadlow gave a sigh of relief.
“I suppose she forgot to sign her name. She has not your experience in business matters. But that is scarcely her fault. If the terms of your father’s will had been different-”
“Ernest, what are you talking about? She? Did you give the cheque to Cherry?”
Mr. Wadlow registered indignation and surprise.
“Cherry? Certainly not! She has her dress allowance.”
“Then it was Mabel-you gave the cheque to Mabel?”
“I did.”
Rachel bit her lip. She repeated her sister’s name.
“You gave it to Mabel? I never thought of that. Do you know what she did with it?”